


Catch and Release

by armoredsuperheavy (b33x), Camellia Cook (thekurosakiconundrum)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Crying, Dominant Kylo Ren, Edging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, First Time, Frottage, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Light Bondage, M/M, Novice Dom Kylo, Oral Sex, Rimming, Spanking, Stressed-Out Hux, Submissive Armitage Hux, Touch-Starved, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16195202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b33x/pseuds/armoredsuperheavy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekurosakiconundrum/pseuds/Camellia%20Cook
Summary: Six months after the death of Supreme Leader Snoke, Hux feels like he’s all that’s holding the First Order together, but he’s barely managing to keephimselftogether. He’s stressed out and exhausted, unable to step away from his work long enough to truly relax.Kylo Ren is intimately acquainted with the feeling of being overwhelmed by one’s responsibilities. Looking at Hux, he remembers a long-ago encounter that helped him escape that feeling once, for a little while.He’s certain he could do the same thing for Hux, if only Hux would let him.





	1. Chapter 1

When Hux looked back later, if he’d admit anything had happened at all, he’d have said this thing with Ren—not that there was any  _ thing,  _ as such—had started because of a late-night detour to the newly-repaired  _ Supremacy’s _ lower decks. He’d just finished a surprise inspection of the gamma-shift bridge staff, correcting several recurrent problems he’d recently gotten wind of, when Staff Sergeant Otalla had reported a minor malfunction in deck twenty-seven’s life support. It was a job for Engineering, of course, but they had flagged it as low-priority and promised to see to it at some point during beta shift tomorrow, whereas Otalla thought it needed taking care of immediately. 

Life support was no laughing matter, and Otalla was generally a level-headed individual. So, Hux had decided to make an impromptu visit to the problem area, trooper barracks thirty-four, and see if he’d be justified in rousting Chief Engineer Xenethi to oversee the solution of the problem personally. He preferred not to go that route unless he had to. Despite the fact that he was nearing the end of his second cycle in a row of running on less than two hours sleep, propped up by quickly-fading stims, Hux appreciated the need to allow his officers their rest time.

By the time Hux had surveyed the damage, decided that yes, the malfunction did need to be seen to tonight but the gamma shift engineering crew were more than qualified to take care of it, and escaped from Otalla’s overly loquacious clutches, his head was pounding. He needed sleep—this particular flavor of headache was always the last warning of an incipient crash. 

He dug deep to maintain a crisp stride as he made his way through the halls, his mind returning to the troopers as he walked, to the way they been had sprawled carelessly on their bunks in the moments before they’d recognized his arrival and jumped to attention. They’d seemed so relaxed, limbs loose and easy, laughter echoing in the room, enjoying their downtime until their next shift began. He was almost envious. The troopers were well-cared-for, and though their superiors worked them hard, they didn’t overwork them, and they certainly didn’t subject them to the stresses of decision-making. The troopers’ lives were meticulously scheduled to keep them in optimal combat-ready condition. When they trained, when they worked, when they ate, when they slept—all a trooper had to do was do as he was told. It would be so  _ easy. _ He wouldn’t even have to think.

Stars. What was he thinking? It would be easy, except for the fact that he’d have to do as much physical training as he could handle, and then he’d die.  Bleary-eyed, clearly half-delirious, Hux reached the lower trooper barrack transport tube and activated the call switch. Despite his conscious awareness of how foolish he was being, the image of the off-duty troopers stuck in his mind. There would be no such reprieve for him. He thought of his datapad, tucked away in the pocket of his greatcoat, filling even now with messages demanding his attention. He imagined it getting heavier and heavier with each one, like a millstone hanging around his neck, dragging him down until he couldn’t walk forward at all. 

He thought of the ten thousand decisions, large and small, that he’d have to make next cycle, and the next, and the next. Every damn thing that occurred on this ship, and a good chunk of what went on in the Order at large, came down to him. Every decision, no matter how small, was ultimately his responsibility. He could not falter; he could not fail. He could barely even delegate enough to take some of the pressure off, what with how many of his most trustworthy personnel he'd lost. It was imperative, now more than ever, that he make himself utterly indispensable.

Most times, Hux pondered his responsibilities with satisfaction, but at that moment the cycles stretched out before him in a merciless, unbroken gauntlet. He tried to imagine what it would be like to turn it all off and relax, how pleasant even a brief reprieve would be. He could go to his quarters and lock the door, turn his datapad off for a few hours. As soon as the thought arose, he dismissed it as pure fantasy. He couldn’t even imagine doing such a thing. Work needed doing, and if not by him, then by whom? That was what it  _ meant _ to make oneself indispensable—there was no one who could do his job for long enough to let him truly rest. 

Rationally, he knew that the Order could survive without him for a few hours, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that as soon as he turned his back, it would all fall to pieces. He’d learned the lesson of constant vigilance early and well—it only took a moment for a rival’s dagger to slide home. He should know; he’d been the rival often enough. 

Passing out from sheer exhaustion was the only real escape he had from the innumerable and constant stresses of command, and frankly, he was looking forward to his imminent loss of consciousness as soon as he got back to his quarters.

When the transport arrived, the doors slid open and Hux was confronted with the sight of Kylo Ren, sprawled across a seat in the otherwise empty car with his legs kicked gracelessly out in front of him. 

Hux seethed. Kylo kriffing Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order. Look at him—he looked like he didn’t have a care in the galaxy. Hux put so much karking effort into his professionalism, no matter how tired he was, and Ren… Ren did  _ this _ , yet because of his freakish powers, he’d made himself Hux’s superior. Hux hated him. Oh, how he hated him.

“Supreme Leader,” he acknowledged as he stepped into the transport. It took the entirety of his available store of effort to say Ren’s title like he meant it, and he couldn’t muster the energy to give Ren a hard time about his bad posture and his—what was that on his cape, dried blood? 

Hux didn’t even want to know.

“You’re up late, General,” Ren commented casually, his voice crackling through his shiny new mask. “Skulking around in the dead of night again, I see. Up to something interesting?”

What the fuck was Ren trying to say? Hux didn’t know, and his nerves were worn too thin to bother dealing with his inane commentary. He was definitely well into the ‘crash’ portion of his evening; it was taking all he had not to fall asleep right here.

“If by interesting, you mean inspecting the life support on deck twenty-seven. I don’t know to what else you’d be referring—I’m not in the mood to play word games with you tonight, Ren. I was working, and now I’m going to go to sleep, and then I’m going to go back to work. That’s all there is,” Hux informed him, half-aware of what he was saying as he dropped into a seat, barely restraining a sigh at the sheer pleasure of sitting down. His eyes came to rest on the floor between Ren’s boots, lids drooping. They were nice boots, he thought absently.

Ren was silent for a long moment. Hux didn’t look up, but he could feel Ren watching him through his mask, which despite being gleaming and new, somehow looked even uglier and more pointless than his old one. 

“It’s not, you know,” Ren said. “Or, it doesn’t have to be.” 

It took Hux a minute to remember what they were even talking about. Work and sleep. “What do you mean? What else is there?”

“You could take a break.”

“No, I really couldn’t. There’s too much work to be done, and too few command personnel to do it,” Hux insisted.

“You would have any officer who tried something like this on forced leave,” Ren chided. “You know you’re only undermining your own performance. If you had to take an efficiency test right now, you’d fail.”

“Of course I would! I’m kriffing exhausted! What do you want from me?” Hux snapped, annoyed. Belatedly, he remembered to watch his tone and tacked on “Supreme Leader.” He was slipping up, frazzled and irritable and veering off-script from his established strategy of how to handle Ren. But what in all the Sith Hells was Ren’s point?

“I want my personnel operating at their best,” Ren informed him. “Would it help if I ordered you to take your next shift off?”

“No,” Hux admitted, driven to honesty by the fact that he just didn’t care enough to lie, at this point. “I’d just work from my quarters, unofficially. So long as there’s work to be done, I need to be doing it.”

“I  could… help you,” Ren offered, his voice wheezing through that damned mask so that Hux couldn’t pick up any clue to what he meant by that beyond the slight hesitation between words.

“Help me what, relax? A pleasant diversion, coming from you? I can’t even begin to imagine what that would look like,” Hux sneered. “And must you wear that bloody helmet at all hours?” It was out before he realized what he was saying.

Ren sat up a little straighter in his seat and obliged Hux’s rudely-put request. The latches of his helmet clicked open and he pulled it off, revealing skin that was slightly damp from stewing in the helmet for stars knew how long—Hux’s tired, scattered mind entertained the notion of shoving Ren under a faucet and then toweling him off until he was in a respectable state. Ren’s eyes were entirely too large and full of some emotion Hux couldn’t comprehend as he stared at Hux, overly intent as always.

“Someone once taught me how to relax and let go,” Ren murmured cryptically. Who knew what he meant by that.

“Taught you? But letting go seems to come so naturally to you. Just last week you _ ‘let go’ _ in a rather spectacular fashion on a primary communications console in TIE Hangar 12.” Hux snapped. Having Ren remove his helmet may not have been his best idea. There was something in Ren’s gaze that unsettled Hux, even more than speaking to the mask had.

“That’s not what I meant,” Ren said, then hesitated.

“Well? What did you mean? Use your words, Supreme Leader,” Hux chided, mock-encouraging. His patience had evaporated some hours before.

“You need… something else to focus on,” Ren explained, or tried to, “Something that won’t let you think about your work.”

Hux frowned, looking at Ren dubiously. “Such as?”

Ren pursed his lips, clearly tongue-tied. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then, the transport chimed the code for the upper command quarters and slid to a halt.

Hux stood and faced the doors, eager to get out of there. Whatever Ren was talking about, Hux wasn’t interested. He was very aware of Ren behind him, securing his mask with quiet clicks. As soon as the doors slid open Hux marched out, escape imminent, his quarters beckoning from just down the corridor.

“Hux.” 

Hux turned, bristling. Every second’s delay that kept him from his bed was an intolerable offense, at this point. “Yes, Ren? Really, it’s very late, I—”

Ren advanced on him, his expression unreadable through his mask, and Hux instinctively took a step back, and then another, until he nearly had his back to the bulkhead. 

“What I’m saying, General,” Ren told him softly, voice once again distorted, crackling through his mask, “Is that for once, you need to stop thinking and  _ feel. _ ”

Hux scoffed. He didn’t have time for Ren’s mystical bullshit. He said flatly, “You’re telling me I need to get more in touch with my emotions? I think I’ll pass.”

He began to turn away, but Ren put out an arm to stop him, leaning against the bulkhead and boxing him in. A jolt of adrenaline kicked his overtaxed brain back into gear, and he turned the other way, only to find his escape barred by Ren’s other arm. 

“No,” Ren clarified, “That’s not what I mean by ‘feel.’ I mean physically.”

Hux blinked at him uncomprehendingly for a long moment, and then his mouth fell open in shock. 

“Ren,” Hux said, his tone clipped, falling back on primness in the face of this unexpected turn of events. “Are you—are you  _ propositioning _ me?

Hux stared at the inexpressive facade of Ren’s helmet, suddenly very aware of how deserted this corridor was. On one hand, that was good, he certainly didn’t want any of his subordinates to see whatever the hells this was. But on the other… A shiver of real apprehension lifted the hairs on the back of his neck as he imagined Ren using his overwhelming physical strength to flip him around, pin him up against the bulkhead. There was no need to wait for his answer—if Ren wanted to, he could have his way with him right here. Hux wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing to stop him.

Right on the heels of his sudden fear, a hot, guilty coil of desire unfurled itself in Hux’s belly.

Great. Apparently the stress of command was driving him insane. What he’d just pictured was nothing short of nightmarish, and yet… And yet.

“Yes,” Ren said, after a hesitation that felt like it took half a century. “After a fashion.”

_ “After a fashion?”  _ Hux echoed, confused and irrationally angry. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re either asking me to fuck or you’re not.”

There was a crackle of static as Ren’s broad shoulders heaved—it was good to know that Hux wasn’t the only one exasperated here. Then he brought one black-gloved hand up, stroking the back of his knuckles against Hux’s cheek before taking hold of his chin, holding him there so that he had no choice but to stare into the black, blank eye-shields of Ren’s mask. “I’m telling you that I can help you. That I can make you forget about nav calculations and life-support malfunctions and budget meetings. If you submit to me.”

_ Submit? _

“I’m not letting you fuck me,” Hux snapped, only realizing that it sounded like tacit consent to anything else after he’d said it.

“Fine,” Ren said. “I can work with that. Then, do you agree?”

“Do I get a choice?”

“Yes. If you say no, I’ll pretend this conversation never happened, and you’ll go back to your unending, uninterrupted cycle of work-sleep-work again, unable to ever truly lay down your burdens.”

Hux considered the offer, his exhausted brain working as fast as it could manage under the circumstances. He was no stranger to such transactions, though it had been years since he’d engaged in one—he didn’t fuck his subordinates, and as he had risen through the ranks his pool of peers had grown smaller and smaller, not to mention less attractive. 

Ren was… not unattractive, he supposed. He’d never evaluated him as a potential sexual partner before, but now that Hux thought about it, he was really sort of appealing, if one liked that rough-around-the-edges look (which Hux did, rather despite himself) and if one discounted his personality, which was largely irrelevant for Hux’s purposes at present. 

This was obviously some half-formed power-play on Ren’s part, what with his language of submission and all of that nonsense, but Hux was hardly worried about that. Ren lacked the skill and subtlety to excel in these sorts of games, whereas Hux was a master. Ren’s manipulation tactics, when they weren’t simply shows of force, were clunky and obvious. No, whatever he hoped to gain from this—other than a bit of relief and release—he would certainly be disappointed. Hux, on the other hand, was being handed an opportunity to finally gain the upper hand in his perpetual struggle with Ren. He had it on good authority that he was excellent with his mouth, and this wouldn’t be the first time he’d led a nominal superior around by his dick.

“Yes,” Hux agreed, lips curving up into a slight smirk as he offered his consent, want already stirring in his belly, between his legs. “I accept. ” Hux let his gaze drop to the mouth grill of Ren’s mask, and then looked up at Ren through his lashes, adding, “Supreme Leader.”

“Good,” Ren said, satisfaction evident in his voice even through the vocoder. “Is there anything else you especially don’t want, other than my dick up your ass?” 

_ “Ren!”  _ Hux hissed, his cheeks heating as he looked around frantically, peering past Ren’s enormous bulk. “This is a public corridor!”

“Not really,” Ren pointed out. “It’s only for senior command staff, and I’d know if someone was coming.”

After a second of silence, Ren added, “Well, is there?”

Hux thought about it. He hated the thought of Ren making  _ accommodations _ for him—surely he could take whatever Ren chose to dish out. Entering this endeavor in a posture of weakness would do him no favors, but he might be able to use this to stop Ren hiding his face and avoiding giving away his emotions. That would help Hux learn his vulnerabilities. “I won’t do anything with you while you’re wearing that mask.”

This time, Ren hesitated.  _ Got you, _ Hux thought. But after a moment, just as Hux thought he would, Ren agreed. “Very well. Is that all?”

Hux nodded.

“I’ll see you in your office after beta shift tomorrow, then,” Ren told him. “Good night, General.” With that, he pushed off the wall, turned, and swept away, the tattered, dirty hem of his cape grazing Hux’s boots. 

“Wait,” Hux called. Ren paused, turning back to look at him. “In my office? Wouldn’t you prefer to meet in my quarters?”

“No.”

Oh. Hux would, in fact, prefer that, but he wasn’t going to bend at the first thing that made him slightly uncomfortable. That would be playing right into Ren’s hands.

“Unless you’d prefer to add that to your list of things you won’t do?” Ren asked solicitously. Hux seethed internally, but all he said was, “No, it’s fine. My office is fine.”

“Good. Oh, and General?” 

“Yes?”

“If at any time tomorrow, you want to stop what we’re doing, give me the following signal: ‘Millicent.’ Just say your cat’s name, and we’ll stop immediately. But unless you give me that signal, I won’t. Do you understand?”

“I…” Hux said, frowning in confusion. He understood what Ren was saying, but…

“This is important. What do you say if you want to stop?”

“Millicent,” Hux answered, still baffled.

“And if you do anything else, such as tell me to stop, I…?”

“Won’t?” Hux ventured. Was this some kind of bizarre New Republic custom? 

“Right. I’m glad we understand each other,” Ren said, and turned away. He added, “Until tomorrow, General. I look forward to it,” before setting off down the hall to his own quarters, striding dramatically as always, his cape billowing behind him.

Hux stood there there with his back to the bulkhead, watching him go, and wondered what the hell he’d just gotten himself in for.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Hux’s alarm blared, and he groaned in sleepy disbelief—surely it had only been about ten seconds since he’d fallen asleep. He retrieved his datapad from the side table, shutting the alarm off and opening his inbox before he had properly cracked his eyes open—it was, he saw, indeed 0500. Seeing nothing urgent, he levered himself to his feet. When Millicent was roused by his motion and hopped off the bed, chirruping sleepily and trotting over to her water bowl, he suddenly recalled last night’s bewildering conversation with Ren.

He knew he’d agreed to something, but what exactly, he couldn’t say. In retrospect, it seemed that their activities might be a little more involved than he’d thought, but he truly had no idea what that meant. The uncertainty made him itch, not least because it was Kylo Ren, of all people. Who could anticipate the tastes of such a strange, unsettling man? It was not a promising start to the day, but as answers would not be forthcoming prior to their meeting time, he resolved to put it from his mind and go about his business as usual.

As he stepped into the fresher, however, the niggling thought returned. While he showered—quick, efficient, mindless—he contemplated how such an encounter might go. What would they do? What would Ren expect of him, and what would Hux get in return? He’d taken penetration off the table, so in his experience, a simple exchange of favors was most likely. Oral or manual, Hux didn’t much care—though Ren’s wording suggested the former, at least when it came to Hux pleasuring him.

On second thought, Hux very much hoped he’d be getting the same in return, picturing Ren’s dark-haired head bobbing between his legs. Mm, yes… That would do nicely.

No need to get carried away. He hadn’t programmed his alarm to allow him the extra five minutes he preferred if he intended to take care of himself in the shower, and in any case he could certainly wait.

He toweled himself off, peering at his body in the mirror that hung on the door. His thoughts of what was to come still fresh in his mind, he eyed the tangle of reddish hair between his legs critically—he’d let it get far too overgrown, lacking the motivation for such detailed personal upkeep. It had been a terribly long time since his last assignation.

It wasn’t that he was worried about Ren’s comfort so much as he prefered to present a tidy appearance whenever possible. So, Hux carefully trimmed up his groin and armpits before stepping briefly back into the shower—set to sonic this time, he didn’t need to get wet again—to rid himself of any bits of hair that might be clinging to him. There. That was done. All that was left was to shave and dress, which Hux did efficiently, as always, with no more looking in the mirror than was strictly necessary. Even in his own quarters, he didn’t much like being naked.

* * *

Alpha shift managed to consume his thoughts for the next few hours. The crush of quick decisions, follow-ups, and petty issues left no room in his head for strategic planning, much less for personal matters. It was a good morning, though—productive. For once, he’d completed more tasks than he’d received. What more could one ask for in a morning?

When he decided to take his meal at shift change in his office, his thoughts turned again to the visit a few hours away. As he sat at his desk, slowly nibbling his protein biscuits, he pictured Ren barrelling through the door, brimming with furious energy, and approaching him to—what? Now that he had a spare moment to contemplate the possibilities, his gut began to twist in anxiety. He set the remaining biscuits aside, appetite gone. Before he set out for the bridge, he neatened the flimsiplast sheets into a stack at the edge of the desk. It wouldn’t do to have the office in disarray when Ren came to call.

Beta shift proved a poor distraction. Hux caught himself watching the chronos closely as he paced the bridge. As afternoon stretched into evening, he perversely wished for some sort of emergency that could wrench his thoughts into a more productive direction, but the day conspired against him to be utterly mundane. He had a few moments of relief when Mitaka, voice quavering in alarm, reported an intruder in the aft TIE hangar, but unfortunately for Hux’s state of mind, the interloper very quickly revealed itself as some sort of large rodent that no one could quite identify. Stars only knew where they’d picked it up.

Of course, five minutes before he was due to meet with Ren at the shift change, a major problem finally cropped up. The rodent, it seemed, had not been alone. Pest control was hardly Hux’s domain, but the bothersome creatures apparently had a taste for the material they used to insulate the _Supremacy’s_ internal wiring. First, he had to sign off on the immediate mobilization of every repair crew they had. Then, he dispatched Lieutenant Ventana to supervise an emergency sensor sweep that would cover each conduit and service hatch ship while he personally oversaw the preparations for the extermination effort.

By half an hour into gamma shift, Hux very nearly had the problem under control. He was lingering on the bridge with Unamo as she oversaw the deck-by-deck extermination, finally about to leave, when the bridge doors hissed open. Hux turned to see Ren stomping in, his expression saturnine, his sudden presence disrupting the ordered buzz of activity of on Hux’s bridge.

His remark to Unamo died in his throat as he took in the man’s appearance. Ren was wearing leather trousers and a long sleeved black v-neck that strained across his shoulders and molded to the contours of his chest, leaving very little to the imagination. He looked ridiculous. He looked _obscene._ Everyone was staring, and Hux felt suddenly, horribly sure that they all knew what Ren had planned to do this evening and with whom he had planned to do it.

“You’re late for our meeting, General,” Ren said, crossing his arms, biceps distractingly visible under the thin shirt. “You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Hux had to get Ren out of here as soon as possible.

“My apologies, Supreme Leader,” he said smoothly, then turned to Unamo and asked, “I take it you have this situation under control, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir,” Unamo told him smartly, though she was sneaking glances at Ren’s outlandish garb the whole time. “I can take it from here.”

“Very good. Shall we talk in my office, Supreme Leader?”

Ren nodded and strode towards the exit, leaving Hux to scurry along in his wake. He seethed quietly, struggling to keep his face neutral for the sake of the crew.

The silence grew ever more unpleasant the closer they got to Hux’s office. Hux wanted to say something to break the tension, but he didn’t have the first idea what that should be. He certainly wasn’t going to explain himself to Ren without being prompted, babbling away like a nervous underling.

Ren reached the door first, and it swung open for him despite it being supposedly code-locked. Hux pursed his lips. He’d have to see to that somehow.

“After you, General,” Ren said, ushering Hux into the room with a gesture, an expression playing around the corners of his mouth that Hux couldn’t quite read but instinctively mistrusted. He followed Hux into the room and the drew door closed with a soft, ominous click.

“Now,” Ren said, as soon as Hux came to stand in front of him. “How do you plan to apologize for your transgression today?” His voice was strange, stilted, like he was reading a line from a script.

Hux stared at him, nonplussed. “What?”

He’d already apologized once, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it again. Especially because Ren knew what it was like on this ship, how often problems cropped up that just couldn’t wait. The Order came first, and that was non-negotiable.

Ren’s mouth pulled down into a small frown for a moment, then he tried, “You’ve been bad, General. You disappointed me tonight. But I’ll let you make it up to me.”

It came out even more awkwardly, Ren’s overserious, too-intent demeanor mixing with his cliched lines to truly unfortunate effect. This was only made worse by his outlandish dress, although Hux had to admit (privately, at least) that the way Ren’s shirt-collar framed the hollow of his throat was eye-catching, as was the way Ren’s thighs strained against the leather of his trousers. And as for his chest, well... In that moment, Hux would really have preferred to get on with the business at hand, and dispense with this game Ren was playing. Or trying to play.

Hux blinked, turning a glance of speculative appraisal to something flat and derisive, raising one eyebrow to demonstrate how truly unimpressed he was. “If you want something, Supreme Leader, just ask for it.”  

“If you aren’t going to be good for me, I’ll have to punish you,” Ren told him, utterly straight-faced like the prat he was.

Hux snorted out a little laugh before he could stop himself. Oh, this was just too good—Kylo Ren, standing in his office, shifting his weight from foot to foot, mouthing off some bantha shit that he’d apparently heard from a bad holoporn. This was entirely too elaborate of a preface to a simple, transactional blowjob.

Hux’s smirk vanished abruptly as he found himself being gripped by an unnatural force, bands of invisible iron closing around his body and pushing him backwards until his back hit the bulkhead with a _thud._

Ren advanced on him, one hand outstretched as he manipulated the Force to pin Hux to the wall. Ren’s eyes bored into him, alight with anger, a far cry from the tentative awkwardness Hux had seen in them only a few moments before.

When Ren got close enough, he settled that same outstretched hand around Hux’s neck, gripping tight enough to make him have to work for his breath. Icy tendrils of dread crept along his spine. He was at Ren’s mercy. He imagined sticking his head in the yawning mouth of an apex predator, trusting it not to bite.

“Not so amused, now, are you, General?” Ren taunted, his voice a low, menacing purr.

Hux swallowed, his heart beating fast, hating the way the bob of his Adam’s apple felt against Ren’s palm, hating the fact that Ren could feel it. He should have known better than to laugh at him—there was nothing a man like him would tolerate less.

“I don’t know, _Supreme Leader,_ ” he sneered, voice rough, twisting the title into an insult as he grabbed Ren’s arm with both hands. Maybe it was foolish, but so was showing fear. “I think your childish displays of dominance are always funny.”

Ren let out a soft growl, nostrils flaring, and then Hux felt his fingers being pried away, one by one. When all ten fingers were loosened, Ren forced his arms down to his sides, back against the wall, palms out, leaving him open and vulnerable.

Hux struggled uselessly, breath coming fast, his heart pounding as unspent adrenaline flooded his veins. He couldn’t fight, he couldn’t flee; he could only stare up at Ren, squirming helplessly. It was all he could do to keep himself from shaking in his boots.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Ren told him, unconsciously echoing his thoughts. “I’ve got you right where I want you. Unless you to end this right now—in that case, you know what to say.”

The knowledge that he could call this off at any time sat in Hux’s belly like a lead weight. It would get him out of this untenable position, but such a show of weakness went against everything he was.

Ren’s eyes flicked down to his mouth. Hux felt himself mirror the gesture automatically, reminded suddenly that this, whatever it was, was about sex. Ren certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, anyway—his eyes were dark, his lips slightly parted, and he was breathing through his mouth. He leaned a little closer, the tilt of his head reminding Hux of a curious cat.

The thought was not an especially comforting one.

Ren traced the curve of Hux’s jaw as he smiled slightly, musing, “I could do anything I wanted to you right now.”

Hux gasped, a thousand images playing out in his mind: Ren’s hands all over him, Ren looming over him while he knelt, Ren behind him, on top of him— _fuck._ It was such a corny line, he should have laughed, but it was _true._ It shouldn’t have affected him the way it did. Fear and desire weren’t meant to mix like this; there had to be something wrong with him for him to feel this way. Stars, Ren could kill him. He could snap his neck right now, and Hux couldn’t do a damn thing to stop him. His fate was entirely in Ren’s hands. There was nothing for it but to surrender.

The thought was intoxicating.

He tried to school his face into his usual haughty mask, but he could feel it wasn’t working. He tried to fight down his growing arousal as Ren slowly trailed a hand down his chest, but it was only getting worse. He tried to think of something, anything to say, but his sharp tongue had failed him, useful only for licking his lips and drawing Ren’s eyes.

The way they tracked the motion was utterly predatory. “Nothing to say, Hux?” Ren teased, smiling slightly.

“I…” Hux began, but he couldn’t for the life of him finish the sentence. He had to look away, unable to stand Ren’s self-satisfied expression for another moment.

Ren’s hand slid away from his throat, then, and it was a relief for about half a second before Ren started opening the clasps of his tunic. His fingers were deft and unhurried as if he did this every day. It was far, far too intimate.

He didn’t want Ren to do it. He hadn’t expected to undress, and he didn’t want Ren to see him without his uniform. But then, it was painfully clear that that decision wasn’t his to make.

Ren stopped with the tunic only half opened, then peeled open the collar to expose Hux’s regulation tank top and dog tags, dangling below the too-sharp lines of his collarbones and the hollow of his throat. With a thoughtful hum, Ren placed his palm directly over Hux’s heart, spreading his fingers wide so that they nearly spanned the breadth of him.

“Do you know,” Ren said conversationally, toying idly with Hux’s tunic, “How easy it would be for me to snuff you out right here? All I’d have to do is reach in and...” He leaned in, nosing his way up Hux’s neck to whisper in his ear, “ _Squeeze._ ”

Ren’s fingertips bit into Hux’s chest as he flexed his hand like he was about to clench a fist around Hux’s heart. His heartbeat faltered, just for a second, but he couldn’t tell if it was Ren’s powers or his own fear that made it happen. Distantly, he recognized he was trembling, shaky with adrenaline, his cold sweat seeping into his clothes.

“If you’re going to do it, then do it,” Hux managed. He was aiming for unconcerned and superior but suspected he’d landed somewhere between frightened and resigned.

“What’s your hurry, General? Aren’t you always telling me I’m too hasty?” Ren teased, eyes wide in faux-innocence. “Besides, I like you like this. Maybe if you keep it up, I’ll make you Grand Marshal.”

Hux cheeks burned, humiliation boiling up from somewhere inside him at the prospect, at this cheapening of something he wanted so terribly much.

Ren’s thick hair brushed against Hux’s cheek as he bent, kissing his way down Hux’s neck. Hux let out a shaky breath—even like this, the soft pressure of Ren’s lips felt wonderful, and somehow, the feeling that Ren could sink his teeth in at any minute and rip Hux’s throat out only made the gentle touch of his lips sweeter.

Then Ren really did bite down, hard, teeth sinking into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Hux yelped in surprise, gasping in a breath that filled his nose with Ren’s scent as pain bloomed in the space between those sharp teeth. The idiot was _marking_ him, biting hard enough to bruise, digging his teeth in and sucking to make it even worse. It would be there for days, under his tunic, a constant reminder of his submission to Ren, of the fact that he’d agreed to this, even if he hadn’t entirely understood to what he was agreeing. The thought of it there, lurid purple beneath his uniform while he stood before his men was equal parts infuriating and arousing.

Just as suddenly, the teeth retreated and a wet, hot tongue lapped at the angry marks. Hux bit his lip to stifle the awful noise trying crawl out of his throat—Ren’s tongue felt so kriffing good against the very same skin he’d abused.

In a sly, singsong voice Ren promised, “If you defy me, I'll put one right under your ear for the whole bridge to see.”

Hux jerked in alarm, trying to flinch back but with nowhere to go. The thought of making his rounds with Ren’s bestial marks showing for all to see.... His cheeks and ears burned at the thought of everyone knowing such intimate details about him. Everyone would know of his submission to Ren. They’d see those marks and picture just this, their upright general reduced to Ren’s plaything. The thought of their eyes on his neck made his skin tingle, made him almost want Ren to do it.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed, but it sounded thin even to his own ears. Ren was unpredictable, capricious—he’d indulged even more inconvenient whims before.

“You know I would,” Ren breathed.

The words rang horribly true. Ren traced his fingertips up and down the tendon in his neck like he was trying to figure out just where to bite.

“Imagine how the crew would gossip. Your officers would start a betting pool on who put their mark on you the moment you turned your back.”

Something about that, about being reduced to an object of workplace gossip, made Hux’s skin feel suddenly uncomfortable, hot and too small. He worked so hard to maintain complete professionalism at all times, and the thought of having it ripped away like that—being debased, owned in front of his people...

Angry at himself and angry with Ren for making him feel so strange, Hux scowled up at him, feeling every centimeter of their scant height difference. Ren looked back at him, unaffected by his stare, his gaze a little unfocused as it roamed hungrily over his face and neck. The naked desire on Ren’s face was hard for him to bear—he couldn’t remember anyone looking at him this way, like they wanted to eat him alive.

Ren blinked a few times in quick succession, visibly refocusing. Abruptly, he released his hold on Hux, turning and walking over to the big leather chair in the corner of Hux’s office, on the far side from his desk. He flung himself down in it, settling with his elbows on the arm rests, his knees wide in the kind of relaxed, confident sprawl that Hux had never quite mastered.

He raised one eyebrow at Hux, who was still standing against the bulkhead, right where Ren had left him, and ordered, “Strip.”

Hux glared at him, hoping he’d successfully suppressed his wince. He snapped back, “Why?”

“Oh, no,” Ren sneered. “That’s not how this works. Don’t make me repeat myself, General. Now _strip_.”

Hux’s fingers reached for the clasps of his tunic before he’d quite decided to do it. He stood there, slowly undoing each tiny clasp with shaking fingers while he stared at the floor. He hated this—what was the point? He’d said previously that he wouldn’t let Ren fuck him, so why did he need to get undressed?

“Look at me,” Ren demanded, and Hux forced his eyes up, his fingers stilling as he forced himself to meet Ren’s gaze.

“Good,” Ren murmured, and it shamed Hux deeply, how much that little bit of praise warmed him. Then, louder, “Continue.”

Hux hadn’t realized he’d stopped, caught by Ren’s eyes. He swallowed, not breaking their eye contact, and went on unclasping, growing more and more tense as he neared the bottom.

Ren’s eyes on him were searing, his gaze pinning Hux as effectively as his hands had. He looked eager, anticipatory, his lips slightly parted. It was so unbecoming for a man of his status, but the way Ren was looking at him made his heart beat faster, his cock stiffening. He’d forgotten what it was like to be so desired.

It only made him more nervous. He dreaded seeing Ren’s expression fall when he realized how much Hux’s uniform compensated for, how skinny he was beneath its careful tailoring. But he had to take off his tunic, it was that or walk out of here right now, just say his cat’s name like Ren has told him to and go.

He shed his tunic, breaking eye contact with Ren to fold it neatly and set it aside. Now, only his gray ribbed tank top offered him any cover—the narrowness of his chest, the sharp points of his shoulders were on display.  After a moment, he managed to lift his eyes again, his bottom lip caught nervously between his teeth.

Oh, kriff—Hux gasped softly when he saw Ren’s hand in his lap, kneading the obvious bulge in his ridiculous leather trousers, the undeniable evidence of his desire. He wanted Hux. Ren wanted him, Ren was hard for _him_. Relief and arousal flooded through him, so strong it made his knees go wobbly.

“The uh, the rest of it, too,” Ren said thickly. “Finish undressing.”

Hux felt his already-red cheeks grow hotter at the prospect. He didn’t want Ren to see what he had done to him—all those threats, all his orders and his staring and his _desire…_

He could take off his undershirt first, but that would leave his skinny chest completely bare. No, it would have to be his trousers—at least he’d still have his underwear. But then, his standard-issue boxer-briefs barely provided any cover at all.

“Can’t do it? Need help?” Ren asked solicitously. Hux froze in place, his hands on the waistband of his trousers. He swallowed hard, glancing up to see Ren’s eyes boring into him, hot and hungry and strangely soft—Hux didn’t think Ren was trying to make fun of him, at least not on purpose.

That didn’t make him feel much better about it.

Ren sat up straighter in his chair and ordered, “Come here.”

Hux shuffled forward, unable to meet his eyes. Ren grasped him by the wrists, far more gently than before. Instead of restraining him, he guided Hux’s hands up to rest on his shoulders. Stars, they were broad. Firm, rounded with muscle, and warm through Ren’s shirt.

“Give me your foot,” Ren demanded softly. The whole situation was so bewildering that it took Hux a moment to realize what was going on, that Ren was actually _undressing_ him. At a loss, he raised his knee and Ren guided his foot to rest along his inner thigh.

Slowly, carefully, Ren worked the boot down, revealing his regulation gray sock, and when it was off, guided Hux’s foot down. Hux felt Ren’s palm, warm on his ankle through the thin sock, before his foot made contact with the cool plasteel floor. They repeated the ritual with the other foot. Hux kept his eyes down but could see Ren watching him in his peripheral vision. He cast the boots aside carelessly—Hux hated to see them there, lying sideways on the ground, one half on top of the other—and replaced his hands on Hux’s waistband.

Ren tugged open his button, carefully unzipped his fly. It felt strange, alien—Hux couldn’t remember the last time someone else had undressed him. When he’d been so young that still needed help with dressing, he supposed. But that… this was so different. Ren’s hands were so close to where he wanted them, every drag of the soft, stretchy fabric of his underwear over his cock making tiny jolts of pleasure run through him.

He watched Ren ease his trousers down, his hands dwarfing Hux’s hips. It only made the half-memories of being undressed stronger, juxtaposing them strangely with how much he wanted Ren to touch him.

His trousers tangled around his lower legs, hobbling him. He watched helplessly as Ren stroked up his legs, over his knobby knees, his pale thighs. Hux held his breath as Ren’s hands smoothed their way up higher, caressing him gently before coming to rest on Hux’s hips. Ren looked up at him then, his expression soft and open, unsettlingly so. They looked at each other for a long moment, but that time it was Ren who broke first, looking away, reaching down to Hux’s half-removed trousers.

“Step,” Ren told him, and Hux, hands braced on Ren’s shoulders, did so, allowing him to pull his trousers the rest of the way off, revealing his socked-and-gartered calves. He tossed Hux’s trousers—entirely unfolded—over to lie on top of his boots.

He felt strange, bashful. It was hard to meet Ren’s gaze. It was hard, too, to reconcile whatever that had just been with how Ren had treated him earlier. He could not possibly have been more at sea.

“Ren, I…” He began, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. His voice sounded odd in the hush that had fallen between them, faltering into nothing.

“Come here,” Ren said quietly, two big hands reaching for him, nearly spanning his waist as they guided him to sit on one knee, like he was tiny, like Ren didn’t even need both legs to support him.

Hux hated it. He couldn’t look at Ren; this was the most embarrassing situation he’d ever been in, perched on Ren’s thick, muscular thigh with one hand on his equally thick, muscular shoulder for support, wearing only his flimsy standard-issue underwear. He felt too exposed, laid bare for Ren to see—he knew he could feel Hux’s ribs through his top, knew that he could tell Hux’s belly wasn’t as taut as it had once been.

He barely stifled a cry as one of Ren’s hands slipped up beneath his undershirt, his hot, slightly damp palm spread over Hux’s belly as the other went around his back, resting on his hip to keep him steady. He squeezed his eyes shut, tensing his abs to try and firm up his stomach. He hated this, he _hated_ it. Ren’s touch felt so, so good. He was so warm; his hands, his thigh, his shoulder—Hux’s greatcoat and Millicent were his only sources of warmth amidst the constant chill of shipboard life, and he’d forgotten how good it was to feel the warmth of another human person.

It had been years since anyone had touched him, even casually, and it was just… so good he could scream.

He’d thought he was stronger than this, but here he was, practically vibrating with pleasure just from this simple touch.

Ren felt so astonishingly alive, so solid and real—for all his human failings he’d so often seemed like a phantom, a hulking specter that haunted the decks for First Order ships. But now, like this, Hux could feel him breathing; could feel the muscles of his thigh shift whenever he moved even slightly, and it was just _so kriffing good_ he could hardly stand it. He wanted more, wanted to feel Ren everywhere, wanted to wrap himself around him, skin to skin, touching all over.

It was infuriating. Ren mapped out his upper body, lingering over the unpleasantly feminine curve of his waist, rucking his undershirt up to thumb over one of his sensitive nipples, stroking lightly over his too-soft belly. He wanted to squirm away but he knew he couldn’t—there was nowhere to go, and even if there was, this felt too good to pull away.

Hux gasped as Ren grabbed his cock, his grip too tight, just shy of painful with the fabric of his shorts in the way. Despite that, Hux’s hips bucked, thrusting into Ren’s grip, totally outside of his conscious control.

“Somebody’s eager,” Ren teased, and Hux felt himself blush—that was the last thing he wanted Ren to see him as, but he couldn’t deny that it was true.

“Fuck off,” Hux snapped, or tried to, but his voice came out soft and shaky. As venomously as he could, he added, “Supreme Leader.”

Ren shook his head mock-sadly, looking amused, his hand still uncomfortably tight around Hux’s fabric-covered dick. “You still don’t get how this works, Hux. If you keep talking back, I’m going to have to punish you.”

He paused for a moment, only Hux’s quick breaths filling the silence.

“Or...” Ren said, trailing off again to watch his thumb play over the head of Hux’s cock, making little circles that started out pleasurable but quickly grew uncomfortable as the grain of the fabric irritated the delicate skin. “Is that what you want? Is that what you’re angling for with all this... disobedience?”

“What? No, ah—of course not!” Hux choked out, taken by surprise. What an absurd allegation.

Ren looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “You don’t want me to put you over my knee the other way and spank you, then? Because that’s what it looks like from here.”

 _Fuck._ Hux hoped beyond hope that Ren hadn’t noticed the way his dick had just twitched. What the hells was wrong with him, to get off on that? The very thought of it—that Ren would dare treat him as nothing more than a disobedient child—was horrifying, humiliating. Not only that, he’d do it thinking Hux wanted it, as if he would be so perverse. He wanted so badly to offer some denial, but he was determined not to do anything to make Ren think he was right.

“You’re going to be good for me, then?” Ren crooned, “My good, obedient boy?”

“Fine,” Hux ground out, his blood boiling as he glared at Ren. Talking to him more like a pet than a General...

“Good. Now get on your knees and prove it.”

Hux stood, shaky with something he wished he could say was only anger, and folded to his knees between Ren’s legs, imagining his murder and hoping it showed.

When he got down to the floor, though, the bulge in Ren’s trousers drew his attention. He eyed it hungrily—stars, Ren looked big—until he realized what he was doing and looked away.

“Like what you see?” Ren asked, a smile in his voice. “You want to suck it, don’t you?”

Hux licked his lips. He did, but there was also no way he was going to say it. Hux didn’t even want to look at him, lest he give himself away.

Ren rucked up his shirt and exposed a wide strip of taut belly and a trail of wiry dark hair leading down into the waistband of his trousers. Hux had to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching for Ren’s fly, had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from leaning forward lick and nuzzle his way down his abdomen.

He watched as Ren palmed his cock, squeezing obscenely right there in front of Hux’s eyes. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his zipper and tugged it down, allowing the heft of his cock to push the fabric of his boxers up into the open space.

He was practically salivating as Ren freed himself from his underwear, shoving the fabric down and out of the way so that he was fully exposed. His cock was every bit as big as Hux had guessed, jutting proudly from a tangled thatch of dark hair, long and thick and so very hard, the foreskin pulled back to reveal a shiny pink head that Hux wanted to lick more that he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

Certainly that wasn’t true. There were other things he wanted more, but just now he couldn’t think what they were.

Fuck, Ren smelled good. Or not _good_ , exactly, just… a lot. Overwhelmingly masculine. Hux wanted to be disgusted, but he wasn’t—he was intoxicated. Ren’s scent put Hux in mind of other times he’d been in this position, and he was grateful for that, the reminder of what he was doing. He knew what was expected of him here, and the certainty was a relief after Ren’s soft, unsettling touches. It was time to get to work.

He reached out brazenly to take Ren’s cock in hand, but fell short as his wrists were dragged down, Ren’s unseen power binding them behind his back.

“Now, now, General. I want your mouth, not your hands,” Ren goaded, his cock bobbing before Hux’s face, just out of reach.

Hux scowled at him and then leaned forward, mouth open. When the barest tip of his extended tongue made contact with Ren’s cock, it twitched away as the Force around his wrists tugged him backwards.

“Can’t reach?” Ren teased, smirking.

Hux felt his face and ears burning as he defiantly craned forward, but Ren was holding him back, just out of reach. Hux wanted it, wanted _him_ —his mouth was watering with how badly he wanted to taste him. Ren’s cock twitched again, tantalizingly close, and a tiny sound of frustration escaped before he clamped his lips shut. Didn’t Ren want it? That possibility stung more than Hux would have expected.

Ren chuckled darkly. “If you need something, you’ll have to ask for it.”

Hux swallowed thickly, averted his eyes and murmured, “Give me your cock.”

“That’s not asking. Try again.”

So this was how it was. “I would like to suck your cock,” Hux admitted quietly, eyes downcast. He quailed at the words escaping him, his own mouth betraying him in this moment.

“You forgot my title,” Ren informed him.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux whispered, almost choking on the words.

When he dared a glance up at Ren, he saw him with his hand around his cock, stroking lazily as he looked down with half lidded eyes, radiating self-satisfaction. From Hux’s position on the floor, Ren was the very picture of a capricious, spoiled king, desporting himself, and Hux was his subject and entertainment. He felt a shameful surge to his groin at the thought of being Ren’s plaything.

“That’s better, General,” Ren crooned.

Hux bristled at the reminder of his rank and opened his mouth again, staring up at Ren in challenge, daring him. As he felt the pressure on his wrists ease slightly, Hux leaned forward and caught the tip of Ren’s cock between his lips. The musk-and-salt tang of Ren’s flesh shot through his body, a sudden surge of hot, sharp want. He opened his mouth wider, sliding his lips down over the fat head of Ren’s cock, drawing it into his mouth. He knew how to do this. He reminded himself what he stood to gain by playing this game. If Ren wanted a blowjob, Hux would ruin him for all other mouths.

He suckled gently at the head of Ren’s cock, tonguing the ridge beneath it and making Ren gasp. Stars, but he felt good, all soft skin over hot, hard flesh, delicate against Hux’s lips. It had been too long since Hux had done this; he’d forgotten how he loved it, power and shame and a chance to show off his skill all in one.

He was out of practice, the stretch of it pulling at the corners of his mouth as he curled his lips over his teeth and slowly took Ren in as deep as he could manage. Ren felt so thick as he slid heavy and full over Hux’s tongue, filling his mouth until the head of him hit the back of Hux’s throat, the sudden pressure making him want to gag, uncomfortable and uncomfortably arousing. He pulled back, sucking as he drew off, delighting in the soft curse it drew out of Ren.

Pulling all the way back until he was only kissing the tip, Hux flicked a coy glance up at Ren through his lashes, a move that had never once failed him. He’d expected to see Ren staring down at him, self-satisfied and smug, but instead he looked awestruck, his gaze unfocused, his brows tipped up and his mouth gone slack in pleasure.

The stupid look on his face reminded Hux of the way Ren had touched him, so inexplicably gentle. Hux didn’t want to see it, so he looked away and got back to work, bobbing languorously, sucking on every upstroke, working Ren with his lips and tongue.

One heavy hand settled on top of his head, sliding into hair but not pulling, just resting there, thumb at Hux’s temple, stroking mindlessly. Hux liked the weight of it, liked the feel of Ren’s hands on him just like before, but it felt a little alien, too, undemanding where he ought to be pushing Hux down by now, trying to get him to move faster.

Didn’t Ren like this?

Hux shifted slightly and redoubled his efforts, picking up the pace, trying to take Ren just that little bit deeper, to fuck his mouth down onto his cock that little bit harder. Ren groaned and that was good, that was so good, Hux was pleasing him, pleasuring him—succeeding. Hux hummed around him instinctively by way of response, getting lost in the rhythm of it, the ache of his jaw and the feel of Ren’s hand in his hair, still not pulling but gripping now, holding on as Hux sucked at him.

Like this, Ren filled all his senses: the smell of him, the salty taste of his pre-come as it smeared wetly over Hux’s tongue. Ren’s thighs bracketed his body and Ren’s invisible hands gripped his wrists, holding them behind his back, pinning Hux in place. Ren’s bitten-lip sighs and the sound of his flesh sliding in and out of Hux’s mouth filled his ears, filthy-wet now as Hux had no attention left to spare for keeping this neat. Like this, everything was Ren, like he was the only other thing that existed in the world, and Hux’s sole function was to make him come.

“ _Fuck,_ Hux,” Ren spat, low and harsh, the words torn from him. “Look at you. You love this, don’t you?”

Hux only moaned, a long, muffled sound that made Ren visibly shiver. He did, he did love it. The highest ranking general in the First Order, and he truly did love sucking cock. The thought of it made him feel strange and shaky; set adrift even as the feel of the hard floor beneath his knees anchored him in the moment.

Ren let out an incredulous little half-laugh, and then finally, _finally_ shifted his grip to cradle the back of Hux’s skull and push him down, holding him there as he rocked his hips, fucking Hux’s mouth in short, shallow jerks.

Hux’s cock throbbed, aching, impossibly hard, and when Ren let him go he only pulled back enough to snatch a quick breath before he resumed his dizzy task, his eyes tearing as he worked Ren deeper into his throat.

“Who taught you this, _General?_ I'll have to look at your file and see who's recommended you for promotion over the years. Did they teach you anything else? Can you ride a dick as well as you can suck one?” asked Ren, something dark and delighted in his voice.

His words took a moment to penetrate Hux’s increasing haze, but when they did they stopped him cold, his skin flushing hot as shame and sick dread boiled up from the core of him. How could Ren know about that?

His heart rate shot up even as the more rational part of him insisted that there was no way Ren possibly knew about his promotion to Lieutenant, some ten years ago. Hux had made absolutely certain Commander Nelem couldn’t tell a soul. He pulled off and snapped, “Of course not, Ren. Don’t—”

But Ren interrupted him, his low, soft voice cutting across Hux’s strident one. “Did I say you could stop?”

“You asked me a question,” Hux insisted, beyond annoyed with Ren’s inconsistent demands.

“Hux,” Ren said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. That was all, just “Hux,” in that low, warning tone that sent a spike of strange feeling shooting through his belly. It was unnatural that Ren could make him feel this way just by saying his name.

Incensed, Hux got back to work. His concentration was well and truly broken now, self-consciousness returning. He pictured himself there on the floor with his mouth working up and down Ren’s inconveniently large cock—where moments before, the thought of it had aroused him, now it seemed shocking and outlandish. He felt a little like he wasn’t really here, except for how much his knees hurt.

It didn’t matter. The goal wasn’t his pleasure, it was Ren’s—and Ren’s pleasure served his own interests. He refocused his efforts, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head, working Ren with his tongue.

“You never answered my question,” Ren teased, thumbing at the stretched-open corner of Hux’s mouth. “Did some dirty old CO teach you to suck cock this well? Or an academy instructor, maybe… You seem like the type to blow the teacher for a high mark.”

Hux glared up at him, quivering with suppressed anger. He knew he couldn’t pull off to deny Ren’s accusation without risking whatever humiliating ‘punishment’ Ren had in store. His glare faltered as he imagined it, shameful heat blooming on his cheeks and between his legs. Ren seemed to be waiting for an answer, so Hux tried to make some sound of negation. It ended up coming out as a short, emphatic “mmph!”

“What’s that?” Ren said, clearly amused. “I don’t understand. Aren’t you the one always who dresses down your officers if they deviate from standard Basic? You can do better than that—enunciate.”

Taking that for permission, Hux started to pull off but when he glanced up, he saw Ren’s eyes were narrowed again, and when their gazes met, Ren shook his head in warning. Hux stopped, frozen there in indecision with his mouth half-full of Ren’s cock.

He closed his eyes, shoulders slumping in frustration that bordered on despair. What the hell did Ren want from him? Why wouldn’t he just let Hux finish him off? There was no good solution here—he couldn’t pull off and he couldn’t speak clearly with a dick in his mouth. Ren was just taunting him for his own amusement.

“Well?” Ren prompted, poking Hux in the side of the head with one long finger.

There was nothing else for it but to try.

“No one taught me,” he attempted, but it came out garbled, completely unintelligible.

Ren groaned, deliberate and obscene. “Feels good, but I still don’t know what you said. Try again, and do it right, or I’ll think you’re disobeying me deliberately. You know what happens then.”

Hux’s blood ran cold at the thought of it, his skin flushing hot with preemptive humiliation at the same time. Punishment. Ren spanking him, like he’d said before. Hux couldn’t bear it, reminded of the times he’d been hauled out for discipline in front of his fellow cadets. All corporal punishment had been public, whether the paddle for the younger cadets or the lash for the older ones.

“No one taught me,” Hux tried again, nearly frantic, but if anything it sounded worse, an obscene, disgusting mumble.

“Mmm, fuck yeah,” Ren murmured, luxuriating in his enjoyment. “One more try.”

Hux suppressed a sound of distress—it wasn’t fair, damn it! He wasn’t afraid of the pain, but the thought of himself, bare-assed over Ren’s knee...

He should bite him. He should get up and leave.

“No one taught me,” Hux tried again, pulling off as much as he dared this time so that he was speaking with just the head of Ren’s cock in his mouth. It was a little closer to being understandable, but he knew, heart sinking, that it wasn’t going to be good enough. Ren had set this up so he was going to get what he wanted, no matter what Hux did.

“Too bad,” Ren crooned, faux-sympathetic. Then his voice went flat and hard, and he barked out, “Stand up.”

Hux felt his body stand as if he was watching from far away, his knees aching as he straightened them. He stared at the floor, unable to look up and meet Ren’s eyes. He heard Ren zip up his trousers, the sound inexplicably disheartening.

“You’ve disappointed me,” Ren told him matter-of-factly.

Hux cringed, some part of him genuinely distraught by the idea even as the rest of him looked on in impotent anger, furious at Ren for setting him up to fail.

“Go,” Ren said, pointing to the far corner of Hux’s office. “Face the wall and await your punishment. Hands behind your back.”

Hux went without meeting Ren’s eyes. Arousal and hate and anger and shame coiled so tightly together inside him that they formed something new, a never-before-seen alloy. It suffused Hux, taking him over, making him walk to the corner and stand there in his shorts and undershirt, in his dog tags and gartered socks with his clammy hands clasped behind his back.

He tried to think, tried to make himself focus on any one thing—how cold it was, how he would kill Ren if he got the chance, how the… whatever he’d been doing before this was going, but it all felt staticky and distant. His thoughts fragmented as soon as they arose, their broken pieces slipping through his fingers like sand as he stared blankly at the bulkhead.

And so, Hux waited.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Hux stood in the corner, his thoughts racing like a skittermouse in an exercise wheel, looping back in on themselves before they were even complete. All he could see was the blank, gray corner of the bulkheads. He wanted to turn, to look behind him, but Ren had told him not to.

The creak of leather on leather echoed in his ears as Ren rose from his chair, amplified in the hush of the office. Goosebumps swept over his skin as Ren prowled around the room, the heavy tread of his boots thump-thumping like an irregular heartbeat. He watched Ren’s shadow pass across his, the hair standing up at the back of his neck. The sight of it reminded him other corners he’d been forced to stand in, other punishments he’d received. He knew what was coming, from experience he’d thought he’d forgotten. The corner meant trouble. The corner meant he’d let control of the situation slip from his grasp.

Hux heard the footsteps halt a few paces away, followed by a series of metallic clanking noises he couldn't decipher. What was Ren doing? Hux bit his lip, shifting his weight from foot to foot, unable to resist the urge to look over his shoulder. He saw Ren turn back from the wall, a glint of gold in his hand.

“Keeping unsecured weapons in your office, General? Isn't that a violation of security protocols? It would be so easy for an intruder to turn this against you.”

Hux knew what it was Ren had found so interesting along the wall: the ceremonial sword he’d been presented by the Ash’kith of Puldoon after the First Order’s intervention in a hard-fought battle for control of the planet. The Ash’kith had gotten what she’d wanted: control of their larger continent and unfettered access to the Order’s hyperspace shipping lanes.

Then-Major Hux had gotten what he’d wanted, too, though: sole access to their productive metal mines and a compliant population of workers. And afterwards, in a very public ceremony in recognition of his achievements, the Ash’kith had presented him with the most precious artifact of a long dead emperor: his longsword. That operation had been the critical step to his promotion to General.

Ren, though, held the memento in no particular regard. He drew the sword out of its wooden sheath, examined it carelessly, tipping it this way and that, then looked up to meet Hux’s eyes. He said, “Turn around. Did I give you permission to look?”

Hux complied before Ren had even finished speaking. Why had he looked? He was only asking for trouble. Stupid, he told himself, stupid and careless. He couldn’t risk angering Ren, not now, not like this. He swallowed thickly, his throat tight.

“It’s pretty, I suppose, but useless in an actual fight,” Ren pronounced, mock-disappointed, a taunting smirk audible in his voice. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”

Ren thought he was pretty? Pretty and useless…

The sword swished through the air as Ren tested it, making Hux’s skin crawl with the urge to turn toward the source of potential danger. Surely he wasn’t really going to use it. Ren needn’t have lured him here if he wanted to kill him—until Hux’s agents found that ysalamir he had them searching for, Ren could end him any time he liked with a twitch of his fingers. But what if the temptation was too much, now that he had a blade in his hand and Hux’s back to him? What if this was how he died, butchered by the symbol of his own achievements? They’d find him tomorrow, dead in his office in his underwear… What an undignified end.

Hux heard the sword slid back into its sheath, clattering to the desktop, and the breath he’d been holding whooshed out of him in relief. Ren’s steps came closer until his shadow fell over Hux’s again, darkening the little corner to which his world had been reduced. He was close enough that Hux could sense his body behind him, close enough to touch.

Ren reached out and laced his fingers into his hair, half caress and half threat. “Oh, General, what’s wrong? You’re shaking,”

Hux realized that he was.

“Hold still,” Ren ordered, and Hux felt a gentle grip encompass his wrists. There was something being wrapped around them, but couldn’t work out what it was until the buckle slid across his lower back, a kiss of cold metal. Ren, he realized, was binding his hands with his own belt. Hux bit his lip, wondering what he’d done to deserve this. He thought he’d been compliant. He thought he’d been good.

Ren’s warm hands slid downwards and cupped his buttocks through the flimsy fabric of his underwear, squeezing with evident relish. Was he going to fuck him, then, despite what they’d agreed to? He felt himself go tense all over, thinking of how kriffing big Ren was and how much it would hurt.

It was preferable to the sword, in any case. Damn Ren, for talking him into this.

“Go on, then, do it,” Hux managed, fighting to keep his voice even.

The looming presence stilled against him, then huffed a soft laugh against the back of his neck. “Brave little soldier... So eager for your punishment.”

Ren grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and turned him around roughly, shoving him face-down on his desk. The stack of flimisplasts skittered across the surface, their corners folding and creasing under his weight as Ren flattened him against the plasteel.

“You’ve been bad,” Ren informed him, and though Hux didn’t know what he was talking about, he could feel the truth of it, deep down inside.

Ren yanked the back of Hux’s underwear down, snapping the waistband against the tops of his thighs, exposing him. “You know you deserve this, don’t you?”

Hux inhaled sharply as the fabric trapped his cock against the edge of the desk. Then he heard the sound of the sword being unsheathed again and froze, horrified.

A loud _crack_ split the air and Hux’s head swam with sudden relief even as he jolted forward with the impact—he wasn’t going to be impaled after all. Ren was using the scabbard, not the sword.

Half a beat later, a stinging pain bloomed across his skin. This wasn’t going to be so bad, he thought. He could handle it—he’d taken far worse in his day. Ren brought the sheath down again, then again, then again, and yes, it hurt, but it was fine. He could almost relax into the even, measured rhythm of it, the impact and then the sting, over and over.

He gasped as Ren hit him again, hard, square across the middle of his ass. He’d only been warming up to his task, Hux realized, putting a fraction of his strength behind the blows. He clenched his teeth, flinching as he took the next one, right across the same spot as the last— _fuck,_ that hurt. Strikes layered over strikes layered over strikes, until the stinging heat each one left coalesced into a single, solid ache.

Hux tried to endure silently, but a whimper escaped him as Ren landed three quick blows along the bottom crease of his ass, one on top of the next. He reached out reflexively to catch the sheath, but the belt binding his wrists held him back. Ren paused, and Hux could only lie there, bent over his desk with his throbbing ass exposed to the air. He realized he was panting and tried to slow down, forcing himself to breathe through his nose.

“I didn’t know you could whine like that,” Ren murmured, running a hand down Hux’s flank. “Like an akk dog.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say, his face burning at the comparison. He _felt_ like a dog; shaking, beaten.

“Do it again,” Ren ordered breathlessly, unmistakable eagerness in his voice. “Louder this time. I want to hear it.”

He almost obeyed without thinking, but caught himself before the sound could escape his traitorous mouth. Humiliation made him press his face into the desk, wishing he could sink into the surface—the thought of whining on command, abasing himself for Ren’s pleasure...

“No?” Ren asked, the low rumble of his voice threatening to pull that whimper out of Hux all on its own. “Looks like I’ll have to beat it out of you, then.”

Ren laid into him with the scabbard again, making him shudder and flinch, his chest tight. It hurt, oh _stars_ , it hurt.

Hux couldn’t hold out against the onslaught and cried out, a short, sharp shriek. It wasn’t enough to satisfy Ren, and the _smack-smack-smack_ of the scabbard against his ass continued, rapid and relentless. Hux’s cries blended into one another, slurring together into a high, broken moan.

Finally, his knees buckled and he slumped forward on the desk, his full weight crushing the scattered flimsiplasts. He felt his chest pressing against the cool plasteel, rising and falling too quickly, his breath shallow and shaky. The feel of the familiar surface anchored him—he felt like the ship’s grav generators had gone offline, leaving him frighteningly untethered as his world tipped and spun around him.

“Lovely,” Ren sighed, ruffling Hux’s hair in mock-affection. “I knew your cute little ass would look good glowing red.”

Hux cringed, his stomach twisting— _lovely, cute, good,_ all bouncing around the inside of his skull, sending shame and pleasure rippling through him.

“Open your legs,” Ren ordered.

The command didn’t really register. He was too busy trying to regain control of his breathing and pull his scattered wits together to make sense of it. All he could focus on was the way his ass and thighs burned and his awareness of his own vulnerability, the constriction of his belt around his wrists.

Just as Hux finally parsed what he’d said, Ren’s boot slid between his feet and kicked his ankles apart, jolting every one of Hux’s sore spots as he moved. He felt horribly open like this, aware of every inch of skin that was exposed to the air—exposed to _Ren_.

The tip of the sheath slid along the bottom crease of his ass, prodding lightly at his balls where they hung heavy between his legs. Hux tensed, bracing for a cruel swat, but the sheath moved on, trailing slowly upward. It was damp with his sweat, clinging and catching against his skin, unyielding and alien as Ren dragged it slowly back and forth over his asshole. He shuddered, hating the thought of it, of one of his possessions being dirtied this way. Was Ren going to strike him there? Shove it inside? He tried to ready himself for whatever pain was coming, but just as suddenly as it had come, the sheath was gone, clattering to the floor as Ren tossed it away.

Soft hair brushed over one cheek and then—something else, something firm and—what was that? With a jolt of horror, he realized it was Ren’s _nose._ He was nuzzling him, nosing along the crack of his ass. Kriff, _why?_

The thought of Ren smelling him there was mortifying, bewildering. His face burned, on fire with shock and humiliation. Shoulders hunching in as if to hide himself, Hux tried to pull away, but he had nowhere to go. He cried out as Ren took hold of his still-throbbing ass, strong thumbs spreading him open, palms pressing, fingers squeezing, making it burn all the worse as he felt something warm and wet—fuck, that was Ren’s _tongue._ Ren was licking him, licking his _asshole,_ lapping at him with that soft, wet tongue like some kind of canid, bestial and disgusting.

Hux tried to curl up in distress, a small whine escaping his throat, but with his hands tied behind his back and his thighs trapped in his underwear, with Ren’s hands on his ass holding him open, he couldn’t. This was obscene, repugnant in every way. It had never even occurred to him that anyone would be so depraved.

Ren made a soft, needy sound and pressed the flat of his tongue directly to Hux’s hole, a hot, slick pressure that felt… that felt… _kriff,_ it felt good. Hux could barely breathe, abject mortification and lavish, decadent pleasure leaving him dazed, his body shaking. It was wet, messy—he could feel spit dripping down to dampen the hair on his balls. Unacceptable, it was revolting, it was… Hux moaned helplessly as Ren teased at his rim, dipping just the tiniest bit inside.

Stars, he wanted more. He wanted it deeper, but he knew that was even worse, Ren’s tongue inside him, _filthyawfulwrong_ —and Ren was kissing him now, kissing like he would kiss his mouth. Those soft lips pressed to the skin around his hole, his tongue twisting and circling and caressing, pushing a little further in every time.

The feeling was intolerable, too much to process. Ren’s hands on him hurt, his abused skin protesting anew every time his fingers flexed or his palms pressed in, but his mouth felt exquisite, hot and slick and clever. Hux whimpered, overwhelmed, reeling.

Ren groaned in response, the unrestrained sound of it buzzing against Hux’s skin and straight up his spine as he pushed his tongue all the way inside.

“You can’t,” he whispered, unable to move, hardly able to breathe he was so transfixed by what Ren was doing to him, how good it felt, how sick he was for enjoying it.

“I can,” Ren drew his tongue away only long enough to speak and licked inside again, relentless.

“It’s—” Hux choked. “It’s dirty.”

“Yes,” Ren said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. As he spoke he squeezed Hux’s cheeks, heedless of his discomfort as he pulled them apart ungently, stretching the tender skin in the center.

Hux whined and dropped his head down onto the desk again with a thunk.

“It’s filthy, and you love it. Don’t try to deny it,” Ren said.

“No,” Hux protested, plaintive and unconvincing.

“Yes,” hissed Ren. “Say it. Say you love it.”

Hux fought it, fought to keep the words behind his teeth. He could barely believe that he was allowing this to happen, that he was enjoying it. Admitting it aloud seemed just as obscene as what Ren was doing to him, as if giving voice to his thoughts would sully him further.

Ren withdrew, making Hux whine at the loss. He stayed there, doing nothing, waiting. “Say it, or I’ll stop.” 

“I—I love it,” Hux stuttered brokenly, blushing fiercely against the skin-warmed plasteel. His stomach churned at the admission, appalled by the thought of his complicity.

“Again,” Ren demanded. He could feel him exhale, warm breath gusting against the sensitized rim before that fantastic, awful mouth made contact again. He saw stars when Ren’s chin pressed in behind his balls, a new pleasure that sparked somewhere deep inside him, shuddery and electric. Hux squeezed his eyes shut, unable to suppress his moan.

“I love it,” he sighed, something warm and strange unfolding inside his ribcage as he repeated the words. The words came more easily this time, their truth undeniable, and it felt like a relief to admit it. What had Ren done to him, to make him like this?

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ren growled, kneading hungrily at his sore ass. “You taste so fucking good. Such a sweet little ass, so kriffing _tight_.”

The crude, filthy praise made Hux flinch, cock twitching, want tugging at his insides so hard it hurt.

But then, Hux was filthy, too, for enjoying it. The weight of his shame wrung a moan from him, the feeling almost as delicious as Ren’s wicked mouth. His wrists flexed uselessly against his bonds as he fought the urge to push back against Ren’s face. What had Ren done to him?

He heard the noises coming out of his mouth as if from a distance. They couldn’t possibly be coming from him—they sounded inhuman, little gasping whines and shaky moans that spiked into a sharp cry as Ren sucked at him noisily, oh, that was, that was worse _,_ the sound of it, the _idea—_

Ren stopped for a moment, his attention elsewhere, and Hux felt bereft at the loss of sensation. The soft buzz of pain from Ren’s hand resting on his ass kept him grounded, though, until Ren’s mouth returned, that vile, skillful tongue licking in deep and curling. _What had Ren done to him?_

It was so _good._ He couldn’t stop himself now, arching his back, pushing back against Ren’s mouth, wanting more, deeper. There was a noise, he realized, something beyond his own disjointed cries and the horrible wet noises of Ren’s mouth on him. It was rhythmic, familiar—

Hux groaned, his cock jerking hard against the fabric of his underwear, smearing sticky against the inside of it as he realized what was happening. He could hear it, the wet slap of skin on skin—Ren was stroking himself off.

He was making more noise, now, too, hungry little growls and grunts that Hux could feel as much as hear. He was making Hux like him with every stroke of his tongue, turning him into something base and wanton, a writhing, shameless creature capable only of fucking himself on Ren’s tongue and humping against his desk.

“Ren,” he moaned, “What are you doing to me?”

Ren only answer was a wordless sound of satisfaction as he pressed in impossibly closer, licked in impossibly deeper.

Hux couldn’t stand it. It was too good, too much, not enough—he felt like he might fly apart, like his molecules were vibrating at the wrong frequency and he was losing cohesion.

“Please,” he whispered, not knowing what he was asking for. “Ren, please.”

Ren detached himself with a filthy sucking sound and said, “Tell me what you’re asking for.”

“I don’t—Ren, I—” Hux babbled, struggling to put what he was feeling into words.

“Shh,” Ren soothed, running a hand up and down Hux’s thigh. “We’ll get there, General.”

Leather creaked against leather as Ren stood, looming over Hux and thumbing at his hole, the hard edge of his fingernail making him gasp.

“Kriff, I want to fuck you,” Ren told him conversationally. “You’d feel so good around my dick. I’d come in you, fill this hole up.”

Hux gasped, his face burning as the image of it filled his mind. Ren’s words made him feel strange, embarrassed, but all he could do was picture was that magnificent cock jerking and spilling inside a tight, dark space. He wanted that. He wanted Ren to come inside him.

“Do it, then,” Hux muttered, his face still tucked against the desktop. He shuddered, shocked and ashamed of his own words, the warm thing in his chest glowing brighter. He remembered how much being penetrated hurt, but that long-ago memory seemed dull and distant, irrelevant in the face of what Ren had done to him, how wet and open he was.

His neglected cock felt like it would explode.

Ren stilled. “Do it? Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, you arsehole, fuck me!” Hux snapped, sheer exasperation temporarily overcoming his dizzy haze.

Ren landed a heavy bare-handed smack against one cheek, knocking a surprised shout out of him. “That’s not how you ask. Say it right.”

“Please do it,” Hux managed, more chastened and far more aroused by the blow than he knew he should be, his throat tight. “Please fuck me.”

“But you told me not to,” Ren pointed out, pressing his thumb inside just a little more. “You were very clear.”

“I don’t care, I don’t care, oh fuck, Ren, I don’t care!” Hux gasped out, his entire awareness narrowed to the tip of Ren’s thumb. “Just do _something!_ I need it, I—”

“That’s it. Tell me what you need,” Ren said.

“I—” Hux hesitated, unused to asking for what he wanted. “I need to come. Please, Ren. Please.”

“I fucking love it when you beg,” Ren breathed, a soft, victorious snarl.

“Please,” Hux whimpered again, unable to stop the sound from tumbling out of his mouth. “Please, Ren.”

And then, Ren said, _“No.”_

Hux shook when Ren’s hands left him, suddenly terrified that he would leave him like this. But he wasn’t gone for long, and Hux moaned aloud when he felt Ren’s cock press against him, hot and thick and hard, so hard, sliding against the crevice of his ass. Would he do it after all?

He withdrew and then spit, the filthy sound of it making Hux cringe. He felt it land, warm and wet and disgusting as Ren smeared it around with the head of his cock. Hux’s breath caught as he felt Ren nudging at his hole, pressing against it—

“Please,” he whispered, _“Please.”_

But Ren only cursed softly and thrust against him, slipping through the mess he’d made. He felt Ren’s hand as he bore down on his cock, holding it against Hux as he rocked his hips, sliding between Hux’s cheeks, rubbing back and forth over his hole.

“Yeah,” Ren grunted. “Stay. Just like that, present your little ass to me—you look so fucking good like this.”

Hux moaned softly and arched his back. He felt like a thing, like an object for Ren to use—he wasn’t even doing anything, just lying here and letting Ren rub up against him. This wasn’t about him at all—Hux couldn’t come from this, the only point was to get Ren off.

He listened to the sound of Ren taking his pleasure above him, the filthy wet slide of it and Ren’s animal noises, harsh grunts on the end of every upstroke when his balls smacked into Hux’s perineum. He bit his lip to keep himself from begging further—inside, it was all he could think— _please, please, please._

The pressure wasn’t nearly enough, the drag of Ren’s cock over his hole a merciless tease. He wondered distantly if it was possible to die from frustration—his cock throbbed, painfully hard, and his whole lower body ached with need and tension. Desperate for any relief, he worked his hips against the unyielding surface of the desk. It was still nowhere near enough.

Ren chuckled breathlessly, gloating over Hux’s debasement. “That’s right,” he said. “Ask for it. Ask for my load.”

“Please give it to me,” Hux answered automatically, then flushed hot with shame at the almost-unrecognizable sound of his voice, high and reedy, whorish.

“Give you what?” Ren taunted.

“Your—” Hux couldn’t say it, his eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. But he wanted it so much, wanted to feel it on his skin, wanted Ren to mark him, make him dirty, make him his.  “Your... load.”

Ren half-laughed, half-groaned, hips snapping. “Go on. More. Beg me for it.”

“Please,” Hux keened, and once the first _please_ was out, he didn’t have a hope of containing the tide, words spilling out of him freely now. “Please, Ren, I want your load, I want it, please, please come on me, _please—”_

“Kriff, _Hux_ , I—” Ren gasped, the words dissolving into a long, loud moan.

Ren’s final thrusts crushed Hux’s thighs painfully against the desk, and warm wetness spattered over his back, the palms of his bound hands. Ren’s shouts rang in his ears, savage, low and disgusting in a way that had Hux’s guts twisting even as his cock felt like it would burst.

Ren’s panting breaths calmed, but Hux couldn’t slow his own breathing no matter how he tried. He felt slow, lazy fingertips stroking through Ren’s come, smearing it around in cooling circles on his back and ass, rubbing it into his skin. The smell of his release hung in the air, sharp and astringent.

“Look at you. The great General Hux, spread wide open, covered in my come. So _ready,”_ Ren murmured. Behind him, Hux heard the rustle of fabric and the sound of a zipper.

The use of his title brought him back to himself a little, shock and shame making him tremble as he grasped the reality of his situation. He wanted to say something, some clever retort, but his mind felt empty of anything beyond humiliation and need. He was still casting about for a reply when he felt Ren’s big hand slide down to engulf his balls, squeezing gently. It made his knees go weak, left him wobbling atop the desk. _Stars,_ Ren really had him. Hux flexed his hands against the belt, the sticky wetness between his fingers making him cringe.

“Nothing to say?” Ren teased, voice heavy with post-orgasmic smugness, scooping up his come with two fingers and rubbing them slowly over his sensitized hole.

“Fuck you,” Hux managed shakily, trying to reclaim something of himself in the face of what Ren had made of him.

He cried out in shock as Ren’s palm connected with his ass, jolting him forward, pain blooming across reddened skin that was still tingly and hot from his earlier spanking. Soft lips brushed a gentle kiss over the stinging skin, but even that contact hurt.

“Are you going to talk back again?” Ren asked softly, rubbing his cheek against Hux’s ass.

Hux could only shake his head, still reeling from the sudden pain and Ren’s terrible gentleness. He felt as if his clamped-shut mouth was containing something, and if he opened it, he didn’t know what would spill out.

“Good. You want to come?”

Hux nodded frantically, desperation and sudden hope welling up inside him. He wanted that, needed it, needed the release, the relief, the _escape_. He choked back a shout as he felt Ren reach under him to lightly cup him through his underwear—it was so good he could hardly breathe, Ren’s fingertips playing over the swollen head of his cock.

“No, no—don’t hold back. Let me hear how wanton you are. Convince me you need this,” Ren purred, kissing his way up Hux’s spine between words. “Convince me you deserve it.”

His throat felt tight and he groaned through clenched teeth as Ren’s hand stroked down the length of him to caress his balls, weighing them on his palm, squeezing gently.

“What are you scared of, Hux? I already know how filthy and debauched you are, how hard your needy little cock is from having my tongue in your ass.”

Hux moaned at that, a long, low, keening thing like Ren had reached into his chest and pulled it out of him, slowly dragging his hidden parts out to glisten obscenely under the fluorescent lights of the office.

“That’s it,” Ren encouraged. “So good for me.”

The praise rushed through Hux’s system, pleasure fizzing hot over his skin. Ren was still kissing his way up his back, tonguing each of his vertebrae in turn, one hand under his sternum, holding him close, the other stroking lightly up and down his cock.

Just those teasing fingertips had Hux right on the edge, the tension in his body increasing as his hips worked, desperately trying to get more friction. Then Ren’s hand closed around him, sweet and tight and perfect, and oh, _oh_ , that was—

“Yes, yes, Ren, yes, oh _fuck,_ ” he panted, breathing each word between gasps as his body went rigid and he felt the tension of his orgasm start to build, winding tighter and tighter, familiar and good. He was going to come, finally, _finally,_ his balls drawing up and his chest rising off the desk, the pressure welling up at the base of his spine—so close, he was so close—

Hux shrieked as Ren’s fingers pinched in around the base of cock and up behind his balls, wrenching his orgasm away from him at the last possible moment. It felt like stopping a sneeze, like a broken release valve on a tank filled with pressurized steam. Hux thought he might burst with it, his whole awareness narrowed down to the horrid buzzing intensity filling his body.

“Oh, General,” Ren murmured. “Did you really think you could come without asking?”

Hux panted, frozen, and slowly the desperate urge ebbed. He was hyperaware of his lower body, his cock swollen and heavy, twitching in Ren’s viselike grip.

As soon as Hux had calmed down slightly, Ren eased off the pressure, but then began again without mercy on Hux’s cock, working him root-to-tip, his hand twisting deliciously at the end of every stroke. It would have been perfect if only Ren’s grip wasn’t far too loose to get him off.

“Please,” Hux whispered, over and over, a litany of desperation, almost a prayer. He felt his hips moving beyond his conscious control, thrusting uselessly into Ren’s barely-there grip like some kind of animal. “Please, Ren, _please_.”

Softly, hungrily, Ren demanded, “Ask for it.”

Hux didn’t hesitate. “Let me come. Oh, please let me come, Ren...”

Ren hummed consideringly. “I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“I’m ready! I’m fucking ready, I’ve been ready. Kriff, Ren, please! I need it,” Hux babbled, nearly insensible. “I need it, I need it I need it I—”

Ren let him beg for what felt like forever, occasionally making a sound of encouragement but otherwise staying silent. Hux could barely even breathe, like he was stretched thin, ready to break. The frustration was overwhelming, unbearable. A stinging sensation surged over his face, his sinuses, the tip of his nose. It had been a long time, but the sensation was unmistakable and—

“Come for me, General,” Ren ordered.

His grip tightened, his hand engulfing Hux’s cock. Hux moaned in sheer relief— real friction, real pressure, finally Ren was going to make him come, going to let him come.

Even as pleasure and tension and need consumed him, he worried that it was a trick, that Ren was going to stop him again. He couldn’t take that. He thought it might kill him, shatter him irreparably. It almost made him want to hold back but he couldn’t, kriff, it was too good, too sweet, too perfect, he needed this so much and Ren’s hand was slick and tight and oh fuck, oh, _stars—_

His release ripped through him with all the power of a captured, dying sun, white-hot and blinding, vaporizing all other thought and feeling as it reduced him to his component atoms. Pleasure scorched him to the bone, scoured him clean as he collapsed into Ren’s supporting arms, gradually becoming aware that he was making a noise, a high, animal wail as he came and came and came, pulsing it out into his underwear, soaking the fabric and coating Ren’s hand.

Slowly his cries quieted into soft, slurred moans as he felt himself beginning to coalesce again, spinning back into existence, gravity binding his blown-apart pieces in tighter and tighter until he was something brilliant and new-made. Hux shuddered out a delirious, delighted laugh, electric pleasure still crackling up his spine at irregular intervals. His whole body felt strange, light and tingling, but there was an ache in his middle that was only growing worse as he came down from his orgasm.

The bizarre array of sensations subsided, but Hux was still gasping for breath. The stinging of his sinuses intensified, his face suddenly felt hot. Hux gulped in air, desperately trying to get a hold on himself. In horror he realized what was about to happen, his eyes prickling, his sinuses burning, and he had no way to stop it. One soft, hiccupping sob escaped him, and he tried to clamp down, holding his breath, pursing his lips, blinking rapidly. But it was no good—he felt the first tears fall and he knew he had lost the battle.

This was so stupid. It was utterly senseless. He didn’t have anything to cry about, and even if he did, he should have better self-control than this. He was weak, spineless, undisciplined. He didn’t know why it was happening, why he was… crying. Even thinking the word was horrible, and his frustration only made it worse. Defeated, Hux dropped his head onto the desk and gave in, feeling the sobs wrack his body. He didn’t understand what was happening or what he was feeling; there was a bewildering storm of emotions inside him, too jumbled to interpret.

Hux barely registered Ren removing the belt from around his wrists and pulling his underwear back up over his ass. When Ren pulled him upright by his shoulder, Hux tried to angle his face away from him, ashamed at his state. He didn’t want Ren to laugh at him.

“Are you... crying?” Ren asked, sounding nearly as bewildered by this fact as Hux felt.

Hux shook his head and tried again to get himself under control, covering his eyes with his hand, taking big shuddering breaths through his mouth.

“Hey, hey, um. It’s all right,” Ren mumbled. He took Hux’s hips in his hands and guided him back to the chair, then sat down, pulling Hux down to sit across his lap, holding him close. Hux wanted so badly to pull away, to go pull himself together somewhere no one could see, but Ren’s arms around him were truly, horribly comforting.

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Ren whispered, running a hand up and down Hux’s back, rubbing between his shoulder blades. Hux didn’t know what was more absurd, himself shaking apart in Ren’s arms, or Ren attempting to comfort him.

Ren was… not helping. Or he was, but the fact that he was helping wasn’t helping. Ren was ripping him wide open with this damnable kindness, with his patience. Hux hated him for it, and hated himself for being so pathetically grateful for Ren’s strong arms around him.

He hid his face against Ren’s neck as more ugly sobs burst from him, loud, braying things that shook his whole body.. He didn’t know how situations like this usually ended up, but surely this couldn’t be right.  He didn’t know what to say, how to feel, or what to do. He felt giddy and dazed, utterly overwhelmed and beyond confused and he just… he just couldn’t _stop_.

“Ren, I—” he tried, forcing himself to look at Ren through tear-blurry eyes, feeling like he ought to say something. His voice sounded shaky and nasal, unlike himself. “'m sorry. I… I can’t stop.”

“Just let it take you,” Ren told him, voice soft but his eyes intent. “Emotions aren’t weakness, Hux. Don’t fight it.”

Hux clung to him as he shuddered and sobbed, unable to do anything but take Ren’s advice.

Eventually, after some unknown interval of time, Hux’s sobs became quieter and less frequent until they trailed off altogether and he was simply sitting there, allowing Ren to rock him gently. His nose was pressed to Ren’s neck and his cheek lay against his sodden shirt.

Hux took a deep, shaky breath and opened his swollen, aching eyes as he straightened. He saw Ren gazing up at him with such a tender, open expression he had to look away, down at Ren’s wet shoulder.

“I… sorry. About your shirt,” he muttered, still not looking at him.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just a shirt,” Kylo said.

“A ridiculous shirt,” Hux pointed out, trying to regain his composure.

“It was supposed to look nice for you,” said Ren, releasing his hold around Hux’s middle and leaning back in the chair. “Now look at it.”

Hux did look - at all of Ren. His soft, sated expression, the wide set of his shoulders, the divot of pale flesh at the collar of his shirt. The way his chest rose and lowered with each breath, the sweat-damp hair framing his face. His swollen lips and his dark eyes, softly amused. Hux couldn’t look for long, thinking about what Ren had just done to him, what he’d seen. He felt completely exposed. It was terrifying, mortifying, and somehow a little bit freeing.

“You’re a mess,” Hux groused.

Ren snorted softly. _“I’m_ a mess?”

Hux looked down at his sodden underwear. “I’ll have to change into my spare uniform,” he sighed, moving to stand up from Ren’s lap.

Ren caught him around the waist again, his lips curving into a slight, wicked smile that did things to Hux’s insides. “Oh no, General. Leave it. I want you to wear it the rest of the cycle. It’ll be a reminder.”

Disgust roiled Hux’s stomach at the thought of tucking his come-spattered underwear back into his uniform. He’d feel it every time he took a step, the soggy fabric brushing and clinging to his cock and thighs.

“I want you to walk around smelling like me,” Ren growled. “I want you to think about what we did every time you move.”

“ _Disgusting,_ ” Hux sputtered weakly, but the possessive, smug tone of Ren’s voice made him hesitate. There was a part of him, he realized, that liked the idea of being so marked. He wondered if he’d always been like this, or if Ren really had somehow changed him, made him into this perverse creature.

“I insist.”

Hux suppressed a sigh and rose, Ren releasing him from his grasp but not from his watchful gaze. Hux scouted the floor for his uniform, feeling every motion in his tender cheeks as he bent over to retrieve his trousers.

“Mmm, nice view,” Ren commented.

“Impertinent,” Hux managed. He was still in such a daze. It felt like he’d entered an alternate dimension with Ren. He nearly tripped over the discarded sheath as he was trying to step into his trousers.

Ren made an amused noise and said,“I guess we finally found a use for your old sword. You should be glad—you were never going to use it otherwise.”

Hux turned back to glare at Ren, fumbling with the button of his waistband. “I’ll have you know, my sword is a priceless artifact of the Puldooni people.”

“Tell me more about your _sword_ , General.” Ren replied, insolent. He sprawled in the chair, confident and regal once again. Hux vividly recollected being on his knees before him, worshipping his cock, and he felt his face heat at the memory. Had that really been him? It seemed impossible.

Hux rolled his eyes and pulled on his boots. He refused to dignify Ren’s instigating with a reply. He glanced at the chrono on his desk.

“Gamma shift is half finished. I’m needed on bridge for the shift review.” he said, avoiding Ren’s eyes. Nevermind the mid-shift review was a mundane chore that the shift commander usually handled. He needed to get out of there, and Ren wouldn’t know the difference. Hux stalked over to his tunic lying in a heap by the corner. He picked it up and tutted at the wrinkles, giving it a few futile tugs and wipes before he pulled it on and bent to the task of closing all the little clasps.

“I like you better without it. You’re cute that way,” said Ren from his makeshift throne.

Hux ignored the comment, though he felt his salt-stinging cheeks redden further. He glanced around for his belt, frowning at the scattered flimsiplasts crumpled beyond repair. He cinched the belt snugly around his waist, swept up his greatcoat from the hook by the door and draped it around his shoulders in a practiced motion, then turned in the doorway and looked at Ren.

“Ah, ah, General, aren’t you forgetting something?” Ren asked.

Hux’s lip twitched in irritation. He needed to be out of here—he’d had entirely enough Kylo Ren for one day. He schooled his expression—fortunately, that ability had returned—and wondered what new mischief this was. “Yes, Supreme Leader?”

Hux’s gloves dangled from Ren’s hand, the leather looking somehow obscene hanging there.

“Can’t go around showing your pretty hands to just anyone,” he teased, waggling the gloves at him.

Hux looked down at his naked hands in surprise. How had he forgotten his gloves? “Of, uh—of course.”

Hux stepped back into the room and snatched his gloves from Ren’s hands, jerking them on hastily. He still felt clumsy and disoriented, but he wanted this last bit of vulnerable skin covered. What the hell had Ren been saying, “pretty hands?” Fuck him, anyway.

“Much better, a very proper General,” Ren said, sounding utterly insincere, reminding Hux that he now knew better.

Hux stiffened, glaring, not giving an inch, balling his hands into fists to hide their shaking. “I’m the best one you’ve got, Supreme Leader,”

He spun on his heel, hit the door control panel, and strode out of the room, greatcoat billowing behind him.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Towards the end of this epilogue, there's some hinting at/discussion of a switch kylux endgame. If you're opposed to that, stop reading right now! Ignore this epilogue entirely.

The fatigue Hux had been collecting for days hit him all at once when he arrived back in his quarters. He knew he shouldn’t get into bed like this, covered in sweat and tears and come, but he was so bone-tired that he just couldn’t get up the energy. He shucked off his ruined uniform, feeling a dull, exhausted throb of arousal as he peeled off his tacky, still-wet underwear, and then stepped into the ‘fresher to relieve himself. He splashed some water on his face and filled the cup by the sink, swishing some water around his mouth and spit it out to wash away the taste of salt and Ren, then downing the rest of it. 

He didn’t usually sleep naked, but the thought of putting anything on was too exhausting to contemplate, so he simply crawled under the covers as he was. His mattress was standard issue but it felt like heaven, perfectly soft and comfortable, the weight of his blankets pulling him under almost immediately. As consciousness slipped away, he had time for only one thought: he was glad sleep was coming easily so he didn’t have to think about what had happened just yet.

Hux woke slowly, to warmth and light and silence, to a pleasant ache in his body. He stretched luxuriously, feeling excellent—he was sleepy, but it was the sleepiness that followed a good night’s rest, rather than the lingering, relentless weariness that came with another restless night and another too-early morning.

He sat up, blinking gummy eyes, grumbling at the discomfort that assailed him as soon as he put any weight on his abused ass. He carefully extricated himself from his bedding and swung his legs over the edge. He looked around for his datapad, but it wasn’t here—he’d left it in his office, apparently. He didn’t know what time it was, but it was late, much later than he usually slept. The lights were at full, and that didn’t happen until alpha shift began. He padded out into the living area and grabbed his spare datapad—it was already after 0900. He’d slept for nearly twelve hours. 

If he hurried, he could be out the door in ten minutes, but showing up in the middle of a shift would call attention to his arrival, make him look disorganized. No, he’d make an exercise of it, he decided—to see how the alpha shift bridge crew functioned without him. The datapad reported no emergencies—a more permanent solution to that malfunction on deck twenty-seven had been installed, and everything else seemed to be running along well enough. That gave him three hours until the beginning of beta shift—lovely. He could take his time getting ready, and then catch up on a few reports until it was time to begin.

As he walked back into his bedroom, he noticed Millicent, who was eyeing him from atop his discarded uniform. She raised her head and looked at him with bright green eyes. Briefly, he imagined that those eyes were judging him for his last night’s endeavors. She wasn’t, of course, even if she could comprehend what he’d been up to, she wouldn’t care, the dear thing, but the uniform she slept on was terribly incriminating. He’d been having a perfectly adequate time pretending nothing had happened, but faced with his rumpled clothes lying in a pile on the floor, he no longer could.

“Come on, off with you, darling,” Hux murmured as he nudged her off the pile. 

Sighing, he picked up the rumpled tunic, then set it aside as his glance caught on the previous cycle’s underwear. Gingerly he lifted them with a pinch to the waistband, his lip curling in disgust at the sight of them, the stiffness of the fabric where the… fluids… had dried. Then, for reasons he couldn’t understand or explain even to himself, he pressed them to his nose and inhaled deeply. The smell was faint but unmistakable, sending a rush of heat to his face and his groin. Filthy—like Ren, like him.

Why had he done that? He dropped them into the pile again and scooped the whole thing up, tossing the uniform into his laundry basket and then, after a moment’s hesitation, he threw the underwear into the garbage chute. Laundry droids weren’t much prone to gossip, but one could never be too careful. He marched into the ‘fresher, doing his best to ignore his momentary relapse into insanity, thankful he’d never installed a security feed in his own quarters. The blackmail potential was horrifying, and the thought that somehow the footage might somehow make it back to Ren...

Also horrifying. Of course it was—what else would it be? This did not explain certain features of his person at the moment, but that was of no consequence.

As he turned the water on, he pictured Ren gloating over the feed of Hux sniffing his dirtied underwear.  _ “You’re filthy,”  _ he’d say.  _ “Greedy slut—didn’t you have your fill last night?” _

Biting his lip, Hux stepped under the spray, giving in to temptation and bringing himself off to thoughts of Ren’s hands on him, Ren’s voice, Ren’s cock. For once he didn’t have to hurry, but it still didn’t take long. He came with his back pressed to the cold plasteel of the ‘fresher wall, his free hand resting at the base of his throat, fingers pressing into the bruise Ren had left there.

His orgasm left him tingling with the remnants of last night’s strange lightness, and he let the familiar process of cleaning himself occupy his attention for the next few minutes. Afterward, he looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his pale, lanky form and wondering what about it Ren found so appealing. He was disinclined to believe the compliments— _ good, pretty, cute, sexy _ —but there had been no mistaking the lust in Ren’s voice and expression when he’d seen Hux out of uniform for the first time. He supposed there was a certain appeal to to his fine fair skin that colored so easily and his long, lean limbs…

Shrugging the feeling off, Hux cleaned his teeth, shaved his face, and gelled his hair, readying himself for the day. He dressed in a fresh uniform, all but his boots, gloves, and greatcoat, and sat down at his table with a freshly-brewed mug of tea. He had plenty of work to do, but first he wanted to do a little unofficial research…

Once he managed to get his search terms oriented correctly and filter out all the porn, what he found was quite enlightening. He’d downloaded a few books on the subject—two manuals and one novel—and was currently reading an article on Chiss rope bondage. The illustrative holo-stills were… quite striking. There was, it seemed, a great deal to learn—it seemed like every species from here to the Core had some sort of practice on the theme of ‘dominance and submission.’

Hux considered himself reasonably cultured, but he’d never heard of any of this. It made him feel a little better, though, that he wasn’t so terribly strange in getting off on humiliation and pain like he had last night. His immersion in ‘subspace’ was apparently something quite sought-after by many. 

What really caught his attention, though, was Ren’s remark two cycles ago, at the start of all this—“Someone once taught me how to relax and let go.”

Ren had learned how to do what he’d done somewhere, and Hux didn’t think it was only from holoporn. Together with that remark, it suggested that Ren had once occupied the same role Hux had last night. Would he still want to? Did he secretly need it, like Hux was starting to suspect that he had, that he did?

He licked his lips and let his eyes go unfocused as he turned inwards, picturing Ren’s massive, gorgeous body in place of the slender Chiss woman in the holos, dark red rope criss-crossing his pale skin. He would look so good, and it would be incredibly satisfying for Hux to have him at his mercy. Supernatural abilities aside, Ren was remarkably strong and muscular. Having all that power bound up just for him… Would Ren like being helpless? Would he beg, the way Hux had? “General,  _ please... _ ”

A buzz at the intercom pulled Hux from his increasingly pleasant reverie, and he hastily tapped his way out of his search results, pressing the button to deactivate his illicit privacy subroutine. He stood and straightened his uniform, walking over to the door and pressing the button to talk as he pulled on his boots. “Yes?”

“It’s Mitaka, sir,” the intercom replied. “Lieutenant Ventana reports that round two of the sensor sweep has indicated that the problem is more widespread than she originally thought. I volunteered to come get you.”

Hux rolled his eyes. Rodents again—surely his crew could handle a few large rats without him? Hux wasn’t terribly bothered, though. The problem was mundane and sorting it out was certain to be boring, but he’d have plenty to think about today. Hux smiled to himself as he pulled on his gloves and greatcoat. He stepped out of his room into the corridor, ready to face the day.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

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